Conversion
by Agent Triangle
Summary: The Covenant had two halves of two separate stories right when they believed Forerunners to be gods. When the Prophet's lies were revealed, they were disillusioned - abandoned any hope of the existence of their gods. But their gods exist. They just aren't Forerunners. They are something far more terrible than anything that came before or after. And there is just one left. On Hiatus
1. Prologue

_**Prologue: The Conversion**_

**A/N: Hey everybody. I'm making my debut on FF by trying my hand at a Halo story, inspired by the Covenant's treatment of the Forerunners as gods. Rest assured, it won't contain copious amounts of idiocy. I think. **

**I've read enough to notice that OCs seem to be something frowned upon, but they're in here anyway. Many... many... OCs. The characters of the main Halo timeline appear mostly in cameos, although I'm considering keeping some around as supporting cast. **

**Keep in mind that this is just a... sneak peek, if you will. I'm still planning this out and I'm just using this to kick the story off.**

**Tell me what you think. Constructive criticism is good, calling out errors is better, and tips are even better. I can only improve if I know where I'm messing up. Even flames work, since I might be able to use them during the winter and keep my heating bill low!**

* * *

**Interrogation of Oscar platoon beginning. Time: 1600 hours. **

Derek S. Fern walked in, the dogtags hanging from his neck, dressing in fatigues and a simple green t-shirt. He sat in the empty room. His eyes were shut as he hung his head.

A disembodied voice said, "You know what we need, Fern. I'm recording."

The marine nodded.

The voice continued, "Interrogation of Oscar platoon is commencing. Time: 1600 hours. Subject: Derek Simon Fern. Additional information: Oscar platoon and Sierra platoon were sent to recover the artifact from the Storm. They have been routed from the mission objective and arrived two hours ago. Sierra platoon was split into two teams for this mission; a hunter-killer team and an extraction team. Oscar was assigned as the main force, intended to kill the enemy. Now. Fern, I'll be blunt. We want you to tell us what happened. Start with the drop-off."

Fern nodded again. "The mission... was supposed to be simple. A quick hit-and-grab. There were supposed to be, like, fifty covenant in total, more than enough for us to take down, especially after the initial strafe. But after we landed and searched the area, it became swiftly apparent to us that the Covenant were no longer here. Some of the veterans started muttering about 'shades of the Flood', but we all knew they were long gone. So we figured that for the first time in our lives, we'd got a lucky break, and counted our blessings that our Commander wasn't going to be writing condolence letters.

"We kept going, despite the rain and the thunder and the mud. We continued our sweep and met up with Sierra-Bravo. They seemed just as confused as we did. Our Lieutenant decided to keep our platoons separate for the moment. He had Sierra-Bravo check in on Alpha, who reported that they'd found the artifact, but found they were unable to describe it other than to say it was cylindrical and huge, and we continued investigating.

"Most ominously, Burns found a bunch of plasma pistols that were fully charged just left on the ground nearby a storm rifle. Standard Covie squad. Grunts with an elite commander. And more and more nearby. We also located nearby the telltale imprint of a Covenant Spirit taking off. The downward force of the dropship's thrusters usually left an indentation on the ground when it was malleable, and the mud was no exception. Something had either scared the Storm enough to drop their weapons and flee... or more likely, it was a trap.

"Then our comms screamed static at us. And as soon as it had started, it stopped.

"'I will lead you to the light. In me, place all of your trust. We will cleanse this universe, and you shall be my hand.' Something spoke to us. Something... something that sounded like a woman. A woman who wanted nothing but the best for us. Some of us dropped to their knees and crossed themselves, crying and praying, succumbing entirely to the seemingly divine being's will. It was... indescribable. I can't tell you the feeling. It's like... it... I can't explain.

"The Forerunner structure turned from its regular soft blue to a bright cyan, glowing almost blindingly, forcing most of us to shield our eyes,

"After a few moments of deathly quiet, I heard Burns say, 'what the hell?'.

"Sierra platoon came out of the structure, in perfect formation, almost marching. They approached, and we could see their eyes... all of them, gray eyes, with crystals as pupils. In near-perfect sync with the woman's voice that pierced our radios once again, they chorused, 'We will save this universe from itself. We will have order. We will have balance.'

"We could literally hear music. A song of hope and rebirth was sung, although in a language we didn't understand. But we knew what it meant."

The marine looks both haunted and slightly unnerved.

"We loved it.

"We were stunned. Stunned to the point that they came within meters of us, and still, those of us that kneeled did not move, but prayed."

The marine laughs harshly.

"Morons.

"Sierra drew combat knives and began swarming us. Those of us that died in the first moments, the L.T. included, stopped bleeding, the holes and slashes in them still present but no longer bleeding, their eyes the beautiful pattern Sierra had. The rest of us ran. We ran like hell."

The interrogator asked bluntly, "So you ran here?"

The marine dipped his head.

"How did you make it this far without dying?"

The marine finally opened his eyes.

They were bright gray, a crystal lattice pattern functioning as his pupil.

"I didn't."

All hell broke loose.

* * *

Sierra and parts of Oscar ran at the base from all directions. The turrets opened fire on the possessed troopers, but the rest of the Scimitar base had worse issues to deal with. The parts of Oscar that were thought to be 'survivors' had spent the last two hours placing themselves perfectly to take down the base's defenses and command structure.

Within moments, the paltry defenses that the unprepared ONI base had were being overwhelmed. The possessed outside the base were running at the base, uncaring of the casualties they took as the turrets shut off one by one, the troopers manning them being murdered by the possessed inside the base. The possessed began scaling the walls, snarling and screaming. The struggle for the base was over before it begun, but for a few pockets of resistance.

The Conversion had begun.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the short chapter, but it's supposed to be a prologue. Promise to make them longer. Well, that is, if you think they're any good. Click the review button and tell me what you think!**


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Escape

* * *

The entire base was going down, and they knew it. But they sure as hell were going to give this Flood knockoff a fight.

The three ODSTs stood compactly together, the sniper in the middle, the CQB specialist in the front, and the machete-wielding mute taking the back to make sure they weren't flanked. Jack Summers, Darron Hendricks, and Asante H'yopi, respectively. The three men weren't a squad before; they just happened to be in the mess hall getting a early dinner when the alarms went off and the turrets started firing at 1610.

Jack hefted his MA5D*, aiming down the barrel, the rifle held perhaps a few inches from his faceplate. The maroon-and-steel colored ODST gave the all-clear signal and hurried down the corridor.

Darron switched from his sniper rifle to his *M392 DMR, knowing that in such small confines, his rifle would be next to useless. Asante moved up behind them, keeping an eye on their flanks, a machete in one hand, a *M6D Magnum in the other.

The three were making their way to the disproportionately large hangar for two reasons. They were treating this... infestation as a Flood variant, and were following protocol as well as looking for a way out.

All vehicles, especially anything spaceworthy or flightworthy needed to be destroyed... except, of course, the one these three would be on.

Six marines emerged from a side corridor, one much bigger than the rest but hanging back, calm and in sync, moving their feet at the same rhythm, and the ODSTs had long since been able to recognize the signs of the Converted. They unhesitatingly opened fire. Two of the six fell, but the other four faced the ODSTs and drew assorted weapons, saying, "You have wounded the Hand. Blasphemers! You _will_ join us!" The only reason a heavenly voice did not accompany them was probably because they had learned to keep radio silence and keep them turned off at almost all costs. They'd seen enough of their fellows go almost willingly to be Converted, and Jack could almost understand why, having heard the voice himself.

Darron didn't miss a beat. An armor-piercing round flew through the head of the marine taking point in the enemy formation, and the marines charged.

Jack and Asante moved up in front of Darron, meeting their foes head-on as the suicidal Converted charged, firing their weapons. Jack's enhanced plating managed to survive the bullets headed his way, but Asante got shot in the left shoulder, dropping his Magnum with a snarl.

The Converted continued to charge, probably hoping to slash the ODSTs into bits.

Perfect for the two ODSTs.

Jack simply flung his rifle into the nearest marine's face, who had managed to make it within a couple feet of him. He unsheathed a combat knife from his chestplate holster and slashed at the Converted's midsection, kicking it in that same place, then stabbing into its back when it doubled over. The huge marine just shook it off and shoulder-charged Jack. Summer's eyes widened, and he threw up his hands to defend himself.

Asante knew his left arm was dead weight at this point, the entire limb having gone numb. He flung it like a mace at the oncoming enemy, backhanding it across the face, disorienting it. He stabbed his machete into its neck and twisted, pulling it back out and shredding its face.

The last one ran through the two distracted ODSTs and the blue-trimmed sniper panicked. He kicked out wildly, attempting to get the thing to stumble back and give him some distance. The marine's knee bent backwards with a sickening crack, but it still came at him. It slashed with its combat knife, but Darron skipped back lightly and fired a couple rounds haphazardly at the thing. Only one round managed to make it into its chestplate, the stopping power of the round forcing it to take a step back. Darron pressed his advantage home and shot it repeatedly.

Asante's opponent was proving to be a greater challenge than he initially thought. The thing managed to survive having his face carved, and leaped on to Asante, beating the dark-skinned man down with its fists before grappling with him for his machete. It managed to wrest it from his grasp, the ODST only able to hold one with the one hand. It plunged the blade down at him, and Asante managed to get his right hand up and block, resulting in the blade embedding itself in his wrist. With an inhuman-sounding yell, he threw the marine off him, knocking the weapon from its hand. He picked up his abandoned Magnum and shot it repeatedly through the head.

The sniper advanced on the staggering Converted, and finally took it down with a well-placed bullet between the eyes, only to see Jack being flung at him. He rolled to the side, and heard a groan and Jack slammed into the floor behind him. He looked up to see the brute-like marine Jack had engaged roar and slam Asante into a wall with a punch that sent the ODST flying. Darron thought fast, flinging a flashbang at the marine and immediately looking away. The marine charged blindly, slamming himself head-first into a wall, and Darron leaped onto his back, drawing his knife and stabbing it repeatedly in the neck as it fell, dazed, belly on the ground. Jack scrabbled back up and drew his Magnum, shooting it repeatedly in the head. While he wasn't marksman-rated, Jack had gone through the training and experiences of a top-of-the-line ODST, and managed to not hit Darron.

Darron got off the marine and nodded to Jack before checking on the stunned Asante.

Darron said quietly, "Hey, you okay?"

Asante grunted noncommittally and got up from the floor, picking up his Magnum and holstering it before doing the same for his machete.

Jack put in, "Half a klick to the hangar."

Darron nodded as the three got back into formation and walked in silence to the objective. When they got there, they saw that most of the vehicles were gone; probably people who had tried to escape. 'Tried' because most of the vehicles were in a smoking pile nearby, undoubtedly shot by the hijacked turrets. Darron motioned for Asante and Jack to start looking for a suitable vehicle, and he turned to a nearby console. He activated the tacpad on his wrist and connected it to the console with a small, short wire.

Jack eventually called them over. "Hey guys? I think you might want to take a look at this..."

Darron barely noticed Jack's call, but Asante walked over. The mute was treated to a view of a dinged, rusted ship. But according to the small display screen near its boarding ramp, the thing was functional. Chances were, people didn't try to leave in this because the small freighter lacked any weapons save for a .45 turret on the top. Or maybe they all just died before getting in.

Darron shouted, "Got into the power. Turning it off."

Jack shouted back, "Can't you just turn off the turrets?"

"No, they draw power from the main grid. Got to shut it all off."

"Got it. Come over here, we need your computer thingy to open this."

After a few moments, all the lights went out, and the humming of the turrets turned into a low drone becoming nonexistent altogether.

Shuffling and footsteps could be heard nearby. Without the humming of lights and the turrets to mask their footsteps, the Converted would sure as hell hear Darron making his way to the ship.

Darron ran like hell. The relaxes footsteps from before turned into running ones, louder and louder as they approached. Darron plugged his tacpad in to the display screen on the ship and his tacpad blared repeatedly as the codes it tried were incorrect, over and over.

Darron muttered, "Come on, come on..!"

The Converted rushed out of a hallway across the room, nearly 400 feet away. Jack grabbed the sniper rifle off of Darron's back and said, "I'll hold them off. Asante, plant the charges on the other ships."

The two ODSTs nodded to Summers and Asante broke into a run.

Initially, the Converted came after H'yopi just based on movement. But when four gunshots rang out and four of their nearly thirty number dropped, they re-prioritized. The massive force charged at Summers and Hendricks.

Summers kept his calm. He exhaled, pulling the trigger another four times, taking down two Converted. As they approached, he flung a spike grenade at the nearest one, and it exploded, the shards flying out of the spike grenade, killing perhaps half the attacking hostiles in a single stroke. In the resulting confusion, the CQB ODST flung a flashbang, swiftly followed by a frag. Obviously, to be carrying this large a variety of explosives, the man had to be fascinated by things that go _boom._

The confused Converted dispersed as the flashbang went off, acknowledging their vulnerability and assuming they would be struck. They were right, and only one flew apart from the grenade. Jack continued picking off the enemy as a fireteam's worth of Converted ran in from an entrance. One of the disadvantages of fighting a hive mind - if one sees you, they all see you. This bunch ran straight at Asante as he planted the last two charges on a Pelican and a Warthog.

Asante rubbernecked and looked at the oncoming Converted, and simply looked back to his work, setting the last one to blow in a minute, and slamming his fist into the red buttons on the charges as he ran for the ship.

Darron screamed, panicking, "It's open, it's open, run!"

Darron took out his DMR and began firing on the forces following Asante as he and Jack began backing into the ship. Asante barely made, a bunch of Converted literally on his heels. One grabbed him by the boot, and he lashed out with his other foot, kicking it in the face. He scrambled up the ramp and shut it, hitting a button, locking the back, seeing a veritable army of Converted flooding in to the room. Jack shouted to Darron, who'd run for the cockpit, "Start the damn thing!"

Darron shouted back, "Shut the fuck up, I'm trying!"

The banging stopped for a moment, only to restart even louder.

Jack screamed, "They've got some sort of fucking battering ram, hurry the hell up!"

"Shut up, shut up, I'm on it!"

The rusty ship's sublight engines coughed before sputtering to life, the engines flattening the Converted behind them as the banging abruptly ended.

Darron said, with more than a bit of relief in his tone, "And we're off! The _Staunch Bastion_ is leaving orbit in half an hour. We can make it aboard in time."

Jack walked up to him. "And what if these things took over there, too?"

Darron considered this for a moment, falling silent. "No way the things managed to make it out before we did. And even if they did, it's a fucking destroyer. No way they're going to be able to make it in without being detected by the scanners."

Jack said with an air of grim humor, "Don't be a moron. They're marines and ONI personnel using UNSC vehicles."

Darron replied, "Don't even bother thinking about it. We'll burn that bridge when we get there. For now, just wait. We'll be there in ten."

* * *

***MA5D - The ****MA5D Individual Combat Weapon System** is the UNSC's standard issue Assault Rifle after the Human-Covenant War.

***M392 DMR - The ****M392 Designated Marksman Rifle**, more formally known as the **Designated Marksman Rifle, Caliber 7.62 mm, M392**, and commonly known as the **DMR**, is a select-fire rifle used by the UNSC.

***M6D - The ****M6D Personal Defense Weapon System**, otherwise known as the **M6D Magnum Sidearm**, is a UNSC sidearm and is one of the variants of the M6 handgun series.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 3: Containment**

* * *

The _Bastion_ left with many, many people still on the planet. These people eventually succumbed to the Conversion, with only a few intelligent beings left with free will. These beings went into hiding, never to be heard from again. Jack Summers, Asante H'yopi, and Darron Hendricks managed to make it onto the Paris-class starship after an intense, grueling screening process to determine if they had their free will, the pupil crystallization having been reported to the _Bastion_'s crew, but it was decided that checking someone's eyes based on inconclusive reports wasn't sufficient. While these three will come to be of great importsance, there are events far more important that one must know happened first in order to understand the coming changes and what caused them.

* * *

**Many Hours Ago**

16807 Contrite Flicker hummed to himself, running tests on the prisoner as he'd done for millennia. He'd resigned himself to his dreary, boring existence, despite the fact that all he was ever going to do was test and test and test until he could find a way to kill the prisoner.

However, the last correspondences from the other monitors - especially those running the Halo installations - boded most badly for the mental states of the monitors. Guilty Spark, for one, seemed particularly problematic. He had gone from his once protocol-following, rule-enforcing personality to a bubbly creature, laughing and showing seemingly random bouts of anger and possessiveness over his ring out of nowhere, even during particularly serious conversations.

He was almost certain 2401 was about to release what few life forms were left and use them as test subjects for the Flood. He knew that eventually, the Flood would overrrun Penitent Tangent's installation, but 2401 seemed convinced that this was the only way to really find out a cure for the Flood and combat them.

It looked like 16807 might be the only monitor that wouldn't be going rampant. But how could he tell if he _was_ going rampant? Wouldn't he think that what he was doing was completely sensible and right? Would the truly insane be able to realize that they are truly insane?

Well. If Contrite Flicker released one of the greatest threats to life the universe had ever seen, he'd consider himself rampant at that point, no matter the nonsensical rationalization he would have delivered himself.

"Oh," he said aloud. The containment unit for the prisoner flickered, signaling that it was running low on power. He decided to go down to the lower levels and activate the backup generators, something he'd been putting off for decades now. He moved to the seemingly bottomless shaft and his single eye grew brighter to illuminate the way, the little forerunner ancilla making his way to the backup generator. After many minutes of moving down a plain, smooth-walled hallway, he reached three fat pillars, all with another thinner pillar inside them. The one in the front seemed to be the only one doing anything, electricity arcing between the rapidly spinning inner pillar and the outer pillar, which seemed to be both how the energy was stored and distributed, as wires were connected to the outside that led up into the ceiling.

He floated to the one of the left, and a blueish spark jumped between the monitor and the generator. Within seconds, it brightened and the inner pillar began spinning, even if it wasn't spitting out electricity just yet. He repeated the process with the other and floated there, somehow... self-satisfied.

Yet another light flickered, and he floated back up top to see what the issue was. Despite his speedy maneuvering, by the time he had got there, the interlopers had already arrived. And in force. With their scavenged mockeries of Forerunner plasma weapons, their primitive amalgamations of stolen and salvaged technologies, they had come.

But how? Installation 120A-C was competely off the radar! 16807 had even been taken off Installation 06 and replaced with a copy so that this installation would have the most reliable monitor the Forerunners had ever managed to Compose!

It didn't matter. The interlopers had to be destroyed.

But as he looked up into the sky, his green optical sensor gazing around, he knew that even the powerful defenses his makers had left behind would not be enough. But he'd be damned if he was going to let even this armada of warships in orbit release the prisoners. Within a tenth of a millisecond, he had sent instructions to the Sentinel factories to push themselves into overdrive, and the automated turrets began appearing in tactically sound areas all over the front of the large Forerunner outpost, heavy AA guns materializing on the top and firing at the sky.

* * *

Jun 'Darva was one of the most competent soldiers the Storm Covenant had at its disposal. He was a prodigy in all aspects of war; a master fighter, a sound tactician, and one of the best, most charismatic leaders one could ask for. He had earned the rank of Ultra for his valor and strength.

But when the dropship opened its cabin and he rushed out along with the *Unggoy and his brothers-in-arms, he knew it was his destiny to die here.

This outpost had to be the most fortified base of operations he had ever seen. While a sense of dread crept into him, there was also a sense of awe. Masses of Sentinels flew down from the skies, and a humongous turret blasted away at incoming dropships. And he was on the front lines of this fight. They would win, with their sheer numbers and their zealotry.

From what they had learned from the Didact before his unfortunate end, this place held yet another of their gods. They could not afford to lose.

Jun prepared for death. And glory.

* * *

The interlopers were massacred. And still they came. Staring imminent death in the face, running a 3-to-1 chance of dying before even hitting the ground, still they came in their droves and their dumb determination.

Contrite Flicker gave them this much; they were devoted. He swiveled around to face the tube that contained the one thing worse than the Gravemind that had called itself a Precursor all those millennia ago. No. He would not lose. He couldn't. He turned back to the enemy and continued coordinating the defense.

He sent one more signal to the Sentinel factory, and it began production of something that had been designed with just this kind of desperate situation in mind.

* * *

Jun muffled a scream as a blue beam seared through his leg. Weakness did not befit a warrior of his caliber. He leveled his *Type-25 Directed Energy Rifle and scorched the Sentinel in seconds. Most of his kind had 'upgraded' to the *Type-55, but he appreciated the classics.

He looked down at his wounded left leg. Luckily, his shields had managed to take the brunt of the blow, but he wouldn't be fighting at a hundred percent for weeks to come. If he survived. Which he had already accepted as impossible.

The Sentinels suddenly became coming much slower. Were their factories overworked already? A surge of hope passed through him, warming his chest.

But then something else swarmed out from the factories. Something huge. They dropped like rocks from the factory, slamming into the ground not thirty yards away from 'Darva. They looked like... well... like drop pods.

He stared at it, wary, but nothing happened. A Sentinel fired at him, barely missing, and he rolled to the side, snapping back to focusing his attention on the fight. He swapped his plasma rifle for the *Type-51 Carbine on his back, firing directly into its beam emitter/eye, and it exploded. The momentary relaxation that accompanied killing another of the enemy disappeared as a loud mechanical whir sounded. He looked back to the 'drop pods'. They unpacked, arms forming from the sides, springing up on backwards-hinged legs. Multiple beam weapons appeared on the shoulders and arms of the machines.

The battlefield fell almost silent.

And that silence was broken by the whir of the mechs firing their devastating weapons at the Covenant.

* * *

16807 let out an exulted, "Yes!" at the successful activation of the *Wardens. He considered the fact that he had just spoken to nobody before forgetting about it. His increasing number of oddities was not the issue at the moment.

The interlopers had begun routing at the appearance of the powerful Wardens, but had again become a cohesive fighting unit, rallying under their higher-ranking commanders. Maybe they would retreat soon and realize that this was too costly a battle.

* * *

Jun sprinted right at the Warden, having noticed after multiple repititions that the mech had to recharge its weapons for roughly ten seconds after firing. He had one chance. He got within a foot of it, and it stomped down at him, the black-armored machine intent on crushing him. He dove between its legs, swiftly turning and jumping onto its back. He punched its back repeatedly, revealing a system of wires. He primed a *Type-1 Anti-Personnel Grenade and shoved it into the Warden's back, leaping off it.

The Warden turned around and levelled its weapons at him, the weapons whirring again as they prepared to unleash death on the *Sangheili warrior.

Far above, the Covenant warships fired on the Sentinel factory, finally in range, and the source of nearly unlimited reinforcements which had so far kept the Storm Covenant back exploded.

The Warden's back exploded in a shower of sparks and blue fire. A cheer went up from the army as the first of their powerful opponents fell. They all charged. The Wardens began breaking.

* * *

16807 screamed in frustration. No! He could not allow this to happen! His Wardens, his Sentinels, his defenses! They were all not enough to hold back the single-minded, dogged assault of the interlopers.

He floated out above the din as the last Warden broke and the factory's pieces fell around him.

His voice amplified, he shouted, "You must not enter! Protocol dictates that no sentient being, not even the Forerunners themselves, were to enter this Installation! Turn back, before you doom everything you hold dear!"

A golden-armored interloper stepped forward. "Oracle! You have been decieved! This is the house of a god!"

He scoffed. "No. This is no god. This is a demon." Perhaps speaking to them in their 'language' would help.

A murmur swept through the enemy ranks as they heard him.

That same split-jawed being stood his ground. "No human is here."

He agreed, "No. There is no Reclaimer present."

"Then how-"

"Your 'god' is the one thing the Forerunners could never beat. The one thing they could never bargain with, never destroy. Even a reverse timelock simply wounded it. Stray from this self-destructive path and escape now, before it's too late."

The golden interloper looked hesitant, but he shook his head. "No. You are wrong." He turned back to his allies. "For the glory of the Covenant!"

A rain of plasma came at him, and 16807 knew he was about to be terminated. In his last moments before the plasma hit, he thought, _When I die... will I have somewhere to go on to? Do I still have a soul?_

A second before they destroyed him, he thought, _Of course I do. I am Forerunner. And I shall move on. Even if it isn't on their "Great Journey." Goodbye, my makers. I tried._

The most reliable and most responsible of all of the monitors exploded, and his enemies stormed the place he had been tasked to defend with his life.

And so he had.

* * *

***Unggoy - The proper name for the species the humans have nicknamed 'Grunts'. Small but overwhelming in large forces, especially when these forces have been trained with devastating heavy weapons.**

***Type-25 Directed Energy Rifle - This Covenant weapons is known colloquially as the 'plasma rifle'. It discharges plasma burning at an intense heat and is extremely effective against shielded and organic targets. Armor can be very useful in defying the effects of plasma rifle burns.**

***Type-55 Directed Energy Rifle - The weapon widely accepted as the successor to the plasma rifle, known as the 'Storm Rifle'. It has a much longer barrel, resembling a sniper rifle and has more battery capacity.**

***Type-51 Carbine - The semi-automatic Covenant Carbine. This weapon is one of the very few Covenant weapons to use ballistic rounds and an ammo cylinder instead of the usual battery packs.**

***Warden - A prototype Forerunner mech designed to defend the undisputedly most important, secret Installation. **

***Sangheili - The proper name for the species the humans have aptly nicknamed 'Elites'. They are fast and strong, standing much taller than the average human. They are, on average, excellent tactical thinkers and fighters, and invariably are stronger than marines one-to-one, the more clever ones a challenge even to a SPARTAN-II.**

***Type-1 Anti-Personnel Grenade - The plasma grenade binds to the surface of whichever target it hits. It sticks and burns the target before exploding in a deadly explosion of flame and superheated plasma, making it extremely deadly and impossible to escape once stuck with it - at least, without removing an article of clothing.**


End file.
